Much Too Real
by Little-Miss-Rachel
Summary: Trish Stratus' life takes an unexpected twist as her best friend is murdered. Her job requires her to investigate her murder, but what happens when one thing leads to another and she finds herself in serious danger? Full summary inside


_Much Too Real_

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and if I did… well… considering Randy Orton is in this story we'd be off doing something else.**

Full Summary: Trish Stratus' life takes an unexpected twist as her best friend is murdered. Her job requires her to investigate her murder, but what happens when one thing leads to another and she finds herself in serious danger? Will she be able to overcome the obstacles that stand in her way or will she have to live knowing that her friend's murderer is still on the loose? Trish is determined to put her friend's murderer behind bars if it's the last thing she does. And, if it goes the murderer's way, it will be.

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Life's like a rollercoaster. Although you've ridden the coaster day in and day out, you get anxious every time you see the loop coming or going down that first hill. But sometimes things don't go as planned, and you could get stuck going down that steep drop, or around the loop. Trish Stratus' life was going great; the rollercoaster never getting stuck. But one day, just as it was going up that loop, it stopped like her heart did the minute she found out her best friend Lilian Garcia had been murdered.

Trish Stratus, known for her excellent journalism skills and beauty, was usually described as a perfectionist. She had an amazing paying job, a nice car and house on the outskirts of New York City, and could get any man she wanted with a bat of her thick eyelashes that complimented her hazel eyes. But that was to the outside world, to the people who didn't know the blonde bombshell. If you really knew Trish, you'd know of her horrible organization skills, relationship problems, and how much she hated her job.

"Trish! Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying!" Her boss Eric Bischoff exclaimed while snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"Huh…? Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Bischoff. I'm just thin—"

"Thinking about Lilian, I know." He mocked. "You need to snap out of it and get back to work Stratus." Eric sneered, narrowing his eyes at her.

"But you haven't given me an assignment, Mr. Bischoff!" Trish informed the gray haired man. Eric gawked at Trish for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Oh…uh, yes. Well, your next assignment will be to write about Lilian Garcia's death." Eric replied with a smirk before walking away from her office.

Once he was gone Trish heaved a loud sigh and put her head in her hands. _How can anyone be that cold hearted? _She asked herself. Raising her head from her hands she peered over at the clock. It had only been an hour since she had arrived at the office, but it felt like an eternity.

A few minutes later Trish had figured out what she had to do and picked up the phone. She called the police department and made an appointment with the lead detective that was working on Lilian's homicide. The appointment was set for half and hour and Trish predicted it would take her at least twenty minutes to get there. So she packed up her messenger bag and walked out of the office, not looking back when she heard the secretary ask where she was going.

As Trish walked along the sidewalk she wondered about Lilian. She knew the police could only give her so much information, and that was only the little details. But being Lilian's friend entitled her to some right to know what happened. Or at least she thought so. She had been so caught up in her reverie that she bumped into someone on accident.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She apologized quickly. The black haired man nodded and walked off. Trish watched him go, knowing she'd seen him somewhere before, but she didn't know where. Shaking the thought from her head, she continued to walk towards the police department. Once inside she walked up to the front desk and offered a smile to the elderly secretary.

"Hi, I'm Trish Stratus from the New York Press." She watched the woman enter her name in the old Mac computer and nod in approval.

"You have an appointment scheduled for ten thirty?"

"Yes, ma'am." Trish replied politely. The old woman smiled and pointed down a hallway.

"Down the hall, the last door on the right." She informed the thirty year old blonde. Trish thanked her and began to walk.

Trish walked down the empty hallway, examining the names in white letters stuck on the doors. After what seemed like a million doors she finally found the one she was looking for. On it read "Randy Orton" and below that it read "Detective". She knocked on the glass, tapping her foot impatiently. Trish expected that when the door opened an old, bald, fat man in a long trench coat would be standing there; but the man standing in front of her was anything but. He was young, maybe around twenty-five, with spiky brown hair and icy blue eyes that pierced into her hazel ones.

"You must be…" He narrowed his eyes in interest at her, and Trish held out her hand for him to shake.

"Trish Stratus for the New York Press." She replied in a business-like tone. Randy shook her hand and moved slightly so she could walk into his office. He shut the door and watched her closely.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Stratus?" He asked, walking around to the back of his desk where he sat in his chair. Trish refrained from rolling her eyes and crossed her legs.

"I'm here to gather information on the murder of Lilian Garcia." Trish's voice faltered slightly as she said her friend's name and Randy obviously caught on because he was staring at her curiously. "And it's not Mrs., it's Ms." Trish informed him.

"What information are you looking for, Ms. Stratus?" He smiled at her and Trish could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Never in her entire life had she met a more handsome man.

"The time of death, a murder weapon if it's been found, and if you have any suspects. You know, the usual information the paper can collect." Trish tapped her pen on her notepad anxiously awaiting the information he was going to give her.

Randy leaned back in his chair, studying the blonde for a second. Trish shifted uncomfortably under his hot gaze, staring at the lines on the paper. He finally cleared his throat and picked up a folder, opening it. He read the contents and looked over the manila folder at her.

"Lilian Garcia," He paused after that, looking at her skeptically. "Do you know how to spell it or do I need to do it?"

"I know my own friend's name, thanks." Trish said dryly. This made Randy set down the folder and a frown passed over his once smiling features.

"Do you know of anyone that may have murdered her?" He asked, staring intently at her. Trish's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm guessing you don't know either." She wrote _"murderer unknown" _on the paper.

"Answer the question, Ms. Stratus. Do you know anyone who was close to Lilian Garcia?" Randy inquired, his voice laced with agitation. Trish nodded her head, not looking up to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, there was a group of people." Trish replied, blinking back the hot tears that stung her eyes.

"Can I have the names, please?" He pulled out a small notepad and held his expensive looking pen in his hand. Trish heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

"Amy Dumas, Lisa Marie Varon, Mickie James, Ashley Massaro, and Melina Perez." Trish said slowly. Randy wrote quickly and re-read his writings.

"Only women? No men that she was close to, or was friends with?"

"No, there was Chris Irvine, Jason Reso, Dave Batista, Adam Copeland, and Shane Helms. But they weren't around at the time of her murder. None of us were…" Trish thought back to that fun weekend in Cabo. Lilian had said she was going to be singing the National Anthem for the New York Jets game and couldn't make it.

"Where were you and why wasn't Lilian with you?" Randy asked, twirling the pen as he leaned back in his plush chair.

"We were in Cabo St. Lucas, Mexico for the weekend and Lilian couldn't come because she had made arrangements to sing the National Anthem at the New York Jets game. She was a professional singer, and everyone wanted her to sing at their games. She was really good, too." Trish went on and on about how amazing Lilian was until Randy stopped her. He held up his hand, a small smile spread across his lips.

"I'm not asking about how good of a singer she was or how good of a friend she was, Ms. Stratus. I am asking if you know who killed her. I'm not here to be a psychiatrist for you. I'm here to feed you information so you can twist it all around." Randy said in an amused tone. Trish scoffed and threw him a dirty look.

"Do you know the time of death?" Trish asked through clenched teeth. She needed to change the subject before she lost her temper. This man may have been handsome, but he was one arrogant person. She kept her eyes glued on the paper, glaring at it as though it was him she was glaring at.

"The coroner says she was murdered at four forty-two." Randy knew she was changing the subject and he was fine with that. He had gotten all of the information he needed from her, and now he just needed to speak with Lilian's other friends.

"And does the coroner know what she was killed with?" It was so hard for Trish to keep her voice steady as she asked him questions upon questions upon questions.

"She was shot by a handgun. Now, are you done asking questions so I can take my lunch break now?" Randy began to stand and he pulled on his jacket. Trish gritted her teeth before standing and walking towards the door in a hurry.

"Thank you, detective. You are about the rudest person I have ever met. Have a nice day." She glared at him before turning on her heel and walking out. She walked straight out of the office and onto the sidewalk. She leaned against a building and closed her eyes to shield the bright sunlight from her eyes. She sighed and slowly stood up straight and walked towards her office, stuffing her hands into her pockets of her tweed coat as she walked along the sidewalk.

Once at the office Trish went straight to the projector room to look at news clippings of Lilian's murder. She flipped through them boredly, her head resting in the palm of her hand. As she skimmed through the writings tears filled her eyes again. She couldn't believe that Lilian was dead.

She skimmed through one and looked at the picture above. After reading the caption she pressed the next button only to hit back immediately. The picture wasn't right. The caption under it read:

_The place of Lilian Garcia's murder. _

But Trish looked closer at the picture and saw that it was not Lilian's home where her body was found the next day. In fact, Trish had never seen the place in her life. She then remembered being told by the detective that she had been murdered at home. Trish began to seethe as she thought about Randy Orton's cocky smile.

Trish jumped out of her chair and ran out of the room. She walked swiftly into her office and pulled on her jacket before running out, once again not telling her worried secretary where she was going. Trish didn't even want to walk the fifteen minutes to the police station. She called a taxi and told the man where to take her. She reached the station in five minutes. After paying the driver and getting out she stomped inside of the station with determination.

"Hello, what time is your appointment?" The old lady asked. Obviously she had a memory problem.

"I was here early, and had an appointment with Detective Orton, and it seems I left my cell phone in his office. I was wondering if I could go and get it." Trish smiled innocently at the woman, who nodded.

"I believe he's back there on his lunch break. He's been working so hard on that young lady's murder he hasn't had much time to eat, bless his heart." The woman patted her heart before answering the ringing phone. Trish rolled her eyes as she walked towards his office. She practically banged on his door and saw him moving towards it. Once it opened she shoved him inside, catching him off guard.

He lunged forward and grabbed her wrists, holding them tight as he pressed her against the wall. Trish struggled for a second before realizing how close he was to her. He had his whole body pressed against hers, her arms above her head. Their breathing was heavy as he let her go, straightening out his royal blue shirt.

"What are you doing here again?" He asked. Trish pulled down her blouse and made sure her hair was okay before speaking.

"You lied to me!" Trish exclaimed. Randy blinked a few times and resumed his seat, picking up the plastic white fork he was eating his Chinese with.

"What are you talking about?" He asked. Trish sighed exasperatedly.

"You told me that Lilian was murdered at home, but she wasn't. Not according to the New York Times, anyway. She was murdered at someone else's house, wasn't she?" Trish pointed a finger at him, leaning over his desk. Randy's eyes couldn't help but travel to the cleavage that she showing but soon snapped his eyes back to her face.

"Damn, I almost had you fooled, too." He rolled his eyes. "So what if I lied? I knew you were going to twist it around anyway."

"I wouldn't have twisted the damn thing around!" Trish snarled. Her temper was at its boiling point.

"I don't believe you." Randy sat leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

"I'm doing a report on my best friend's murder! Don't you think that I'd want to know what happened to her, too!" Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as their argument only got worse.

"But for the newspaper you'd twist it all around, right?" He asked, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was calm, unlike Trish's.

"I don't twist the information around…" She said in a deadly tone. Randy's eyes snapped away from the white ceiling to her. He stared at her before realizing the tears in her eyes. He suddenly felt sorry for the beautiful blonde in front of him.

"I'm sure you don't, sweetheart. Now, if we're done throwing tantrums I'd like to get back to my lunch." He motioned for the food in front of him. Trish's mouth dropped open and she stared at the man in front of her.

"Don't you ever, EVER, call me sweetheart again, and how dare you try to make me leave!"

"Why were you here again?"

"And NEVER say that I throw tantrums because I, Trish Stratus, don't!" Then his words finally registered in her brain and Trish glared at him through her tears.

"You know damn well why I'm here! You gave me false information, and I could take you to court for that, Detective." Trish growled his name. Randy shrugged nonchalantly and poked at his General Tso chicken.

"It's not my fault that your boss gave you the assignment. You know, I think I'll have a talk with your boss. Ask him to assign someone else, because you're as bitchy as I heard Lilian Garcia was." He then knew he had crossed the line. Her eyes widened then the tears came zig zagging down. He dropped his feet from the desk and sat up.

"Thanks for the help, asshole." Trish choked out before storming away. The door slammed shut behind her as she walked swiftly down the hallway, her head dropped. She heard her name being called but didn't turn around to his voice. Instead, she kept walking.

"Did you find your phone, dear?" The secretary asked. Trish just nodded and walked out. Once outside she walked the way towards her house. She wasn't going to go back to the office looking like this. She wasn't going to go back. She'd let Randy tell Eric to switch people, and she was perfectly fine with that. Never again did she want to see that arrogant asshole.

Once inside her home after many taxi's later, she slid down the front door and put her head in her hands. The only other time she had cried like this was Lilian's funeral. Tears streamed down her face like a dam that had a hole in it. Then she stood, determination set once again on her face.

Trish wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath before grabbing the newspaper and flipping vigorously through the pages until she found the picture of Lilian's murder place. She tore the picture out and squinted to find an address on the building.

"If Orton won't give me all of the facts, I'll get them myself." Trish stuffed the picture in her pocket and walked out the door, thinking that she could get the information from the murderer, if he or she was there, easily.

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A/N: So… This is a writing I'm doing for creative writing that I never in a million years thought I'd post but I decided to after reading it over. This is one of the best stories I think I've ever written although it's only going to be a two-shot. But if you guys demand more then MAYBE I'll make it longer. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, and reviews are appreciated! 

**Rachel**


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